


You Have a Bow and Arrow. And I Have a Stick.

by MissLorettaC



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Harry is in his late 20's-30, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 12:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5665657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissLorettaC/pseuds/MissLorettaC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When the hell did muggles get this interesting?”</p><p>After following the trail of a foreign and not exactly friendly feeling magic, Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived-to-retire-at-twenty, found himself cut off from the cozy life he'd built for himself by a deranged, eye thieving god, a confused archer, and a band of uncooperative superheroes. But that was fine. He could handle this. Probably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Have a Bow and Arrow. And I Have a Stick.

There was no denying it this time. He’d felt it a few days ago, or- he _thought_ he had, but it had been faint before, and far away. Now, though, the distinct feeling of being hit with something a wave of something – magic? It had to be - had shocked him into full alertness.

Harry shivered as he tried to shake off the feeling of dread and _cold_ and looked around at the frowning witches and wizards near him, equally relieved and apprehensive about the fact that he at least wasn’t the only one who had felt it this time. He wasn’t surprised that many of the stragglers around him spooked and quickly apparated out of Diagon Alley, it was a common reaction even now, years after the war, for the wizarding population to distance themselves from anything that wasn’t the norm. Truthfully, Harry wasn’t much different.

Two years into his Auror training, he had called it quits and ducked quietly into a more peaceful life, one that didn’t involve getting hexed or cursed every day, or being called away without notice on some mission-or-other that kept him from home for days on end. He had been tired of that life, having had enough of it in his youth, and had settled quite comfortably into a routine of doing next to nothing for the last few years. Sure, he still had his mini-adventures; he hadn’t completely retreated into the life of a happy hermit. He met with his friends, he kept fit, he travelled, he even practiced dueling with Ron and Hermione so he wouldn’t forget _everything_ he’d learned during his training, but the important thing for him was almost everything he did now was on his own time, for his own leisure. He’d enjoyed his down time but now, he had a bad feeling he was going to be coming out of retirement.

He picked a destination and headed off in the general _that-ish_ direction he felt the foreign magic was coming from and, after quite a few rather exhausting attempts getting closer but not quite where he needed to be, Harry ended up in Stuttgart, Germany staring down from a balcony at the suited figure who was descending the stairs to what looked like a ballroom and it was from him he could feel the malign magic rolling off of in waves. Now that he’d found his source, all he had to do was get his answers. Easy, right?

Ha, no. Wrong. Very wrong.

It was all happening slightly too fast for Harry to keep up with and he honestly didn’t know if it was because he was out of practice or because the situation was just that bizarre that everything going on around him was leaving him in the dust as he struggled to understand. First there was the eyeball thing, and Harry was still extremely disturbed by that. Then he’d been running- to help- to stop this _eye-stealing lunatic_! But then they were outside and everyone was kneeling then before he could do so much as mutter a _Stupefy_ there was a suddenly a man appearing from nowhere to fight the maniac and, he _seemed_ to be holding his own?

Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever felt so lost. It was a scream that snapped him back to reality. While he was wasting time trying to force the gears in his head to speed up, civilians were running away, around, and far too close to the fight that was moving around faster than people could get away from it. When did he ever really need to stop and think things through anyway?

Diving into action, Harry started throwing up protection spells (who was even going to notice with the spectacle the other two were making anyway?) to block wayward spells, rubble, and even, once, a near collision between the man in the blue outfit and a woman who had been huddled taking cover next to a statue. He began herding people as best he could away, beyond relieved that any language barrier there might be between them was being successfully overcome purely by presenting himself as an authority figure. People scrambled to where he told them to or followed him out of the danger when they couldn’t. It was only when the sounds of fighting had disappeared, and the screams of fear quietened, that he allowed himself to take stock and slip away. He’d spotted the aircraft that was crowding close to the leather-clad magic user and didn’t want to wait to find out if it had spotted him. He had just turned the corner when he’d been forced to duck because an _arrow_ had been hurtling towards his face, and the _Stupefy_ had been spat from his mouth long before his mind had caught up.

He briefly caught a glimpse of eerie blue eyes before they were forced shut when the spell hit him. There was the thud of the man hitting the wall, accompanied by a crack as his head collided a millisecond later, smacking into the brick with enough force to make the wizard wince guiltily, and though the man’s accomplices hightailed it without so much as looking at their fallen comrade, Harry supposed catching _one_ of them was better than none.

Harry cautiously crept towards the unconscious archer (though why he was being cautious was up for debate since he’d apparently hit him with enough power to stun a horse if how far the man had been flung was anything to go by) and once he was sure he wouldn’t be having any more trouble from him for a while, he let out a bemused sigh and ran a hand through his messy hair.

“When the hell did muggles get this interesting?”

**Author's Note:**

> I promise the whole story won't be written like this, this was just scene-setting kick-start type chapter. It's a bit naff but maybe it'll get better, you never know!


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